A Death at Crystal Palace

by Caroline Dunford

  The Carlton Hotel at Pall Mall puts on a good show architecturally. Six storeys in height, along the roof line there is a selection of gables and turrets that I found not un-reminiscent of some of the eaves we had seen in Ghent, the whole thing topped off with a large dome. Periodically the façade is set with Doric or Ionic (I can never remember the difference) columns in fours. The edges of the building all end in a square pillar. The visible windows are large and many-paned, though I cannot speak to the lower servants’ area. It is clearly a building created to be ostentatious - and thus it is perhaps not surprising that Escoffier had chosen it as the home for his London enterprise. To me it looked like a large and rather vulgar wedding cake.

  Walking inside one immediately sees signs directing one to the Palm Court, which Bertram whispered in a loud aside was the very latest thing. I sometimes think he regrets buying an estate in the Fens for its distance from the metropolis as much as for its dampness. The man at the desk must have overheard him as he asked, in a most snooty manner, if we had reservations. Bertram was about to answer, but Rory moved past him and took the situation in hand. By the time we were escorted to the elevator, the motor had been stabled (or whatever one calls it), several bellboys were wheeling our luggage in large golden cages, and a veritable small army of attendants were escorting us across the lobby to the extremely large suite that had been hired for the Muller party. We were also given more information about the hotel than interested me by the clerk who accompanied us. As well as singing the praises of Escoffier, he told us the hotel had more than 250 bed and sitting rooms, many of which were en-suite, and all furnished in eighteenth-century English and French styles. Should one tire of London’s attractions there were smoking rooms (men only), reading rooms, retiring rooms, hair-dressing rooms, a boy messenger service, a theatre box office, the Escoffier dining experience and more. Also, each room had a telephone line that could connect internally and externally. The last detail I paid the most attention to as it struck me that it could be of use should anything untoward occur.

  We were on the fourth floor. As we exited the lift, I noticed that Bertram appeared to be fiddling in his trouser pockets. I did not feel I could comment on this with others around, but I attempted to nudge him significantly. He merely spared me a harried glance and went back to fiddling. As the bellboys deposited our luggage - obviously they had not ridden in the lift with us, but as if by magic had managed to arrive at the same time as us and our escort. The door was opened for us and the key handed to Bertram. The bellboys and their luggage cages started to stream inside. Had we really brought this much luggage? I stared at it a little bemused until I noticed the initials RM on one piece and realised Richenda’s luggage had also arrived. The clerk followed my gaze.

  ‘It came by train, madam,’ he said. ‘But we did not wish to put it into the suite until you arrived. Shall I send maids to unpack?’

  ‘No, the other servants will be arriving shortly,’ I said. The words came easily enough, but it felt strange to be on the other side of the master and servant divide. My engagement to Bertram had for ever removed me from my times below stairs. Fortunately, my mother had trained me all my life to become the mistress of a Great House. She had never given up hope of my grandfather forgiving her transgression in eloping with a curate. Speaking to the clerk, I could feel my early training returning to me. I suddenly understood that Bertram must not have supplied himself with enough coinage for tipping the staff. ‘McLeod,’ I said, ‘if you could see the hotel staff are adequately enumerated for their service.’ I then linked my arm through Bertram’s and swept him inside.

  Bertram almost at once sank into a chair and began mopping his head with his handkerchief. ‘I had no idea they would send so many -’ he began, but I put my fingers to my lips to shush him. While I waited for Rory to complete the transaction I looked around the reception area of our suite. The furniture was not to my taste, being mostly French, but it was freshly painted, and the cushions looked plump and comfortable. Several decanters had been set out to welcome us, ranging from sweet sherry through to ruby port. A plate of polished fruit sat on a central table, flanked by small plates covered in napkins and small silver fruit knives.

  ‘If you could arrange for some tea, McLeod,’ I said.

  ‘Of course, madam,’ answered Rory’s voice with no tinge of the sarcasm he would have used had we been alone.

  Doors seemed to lead off in all directions, but I decided to wait until all the hotel staff had left before I explored. Because of this I did not realise we were not alone until after Rory had shut the main door.

  ‘How did you know I would be carrying change for the boys?’ said Rory.

  I smiled. ‘You were close to being the perfect butler when I first knew you,’ I said. ‘It did not occur to me you would be anything less than the perfect major-domo now.’

  ‘It would have been dashed embarrassing if he hadn’t had the money,’ said Bertram.

  ‘Aye, well. Better to embarrass me in front of the staff than you,’ said Rory. ‘As Euphemia well knows.’

  ‘You were rather commanding,’ said Bertram looking up from his chair in mild awe.

  I shrugged. ‘Remember how terrifying Mrs Wilson could be when she wanted. All housekeepers have that ability.’ I was, of course, lying through my teeth. When I first knew Bertram, I would never have dreamed of lying, but now it was becoming all too common a circumstance. I needed to explain about my background, but I hadn’t quite got around to finding the correct time to do so.

  It was while I was wrestling with my moral fibre that a door opened and a nursery maid in uniform rushed into the room and embraced me.

  ‘Euphemia,’ cried Merry. ‘It’s been forever since I’ve seen you. Isn’t this the greatest plan of Richenda’s to get me to look after the children?’

  Merry is my dearest friend. When I first joined Stapleford Hall as a clueless maid it was Merry who helped me adjust, covered for me and befriended me. Her name is really Mary, but she is of such a sunny disposition that she has earned herself the nickname of Merry.

  ‘Step away, lass,’ said Rory firmly. ‘You can’t behave like that with the master’s future bride.’

  Merry, who married Bertram’s chauffeur, and now lives on his estate, looked from him to me in confusion. I held out my hand to display my ring. ‘It’s true. I am engaged to Bertram.’ Merry paled. She took one step back and, to my horror, curtsied towards me. Before I could protest, the hotel door burst open once more. I had a brief glimpse of a harried-looking clerk as Richenda sailed past her. Following in her wake was Glanville and, before her, Glanville pushed a perambulator with Alexander and Alicia tucked up inside.

  Chapter Four

  Far Too Many Acquaintances and Family Members Join the Non-Adventure

  Bertram jumped up. ‘What the devil do you mean bringing the twins to London?’ he cried.

  Richenda didn’t turn a hair but began to strip off her gloves. ‘It is nice to see you too, Bertram. Did you have a good drive up? We came by steam train. Not that you bothered to enquire.’

  ‘You took the twins on one of those infernal engines?’ said Bertram.

  ‘First class, of course,’ said Richenda. ‘It was rather nice. Better than being on the road with a whole load of lunatic drivers.’ She looked pointedly at Bertram.

  ‘Richenda,’ I said quietly, ‘does Hans know you have the children with you?’

  ‘I am their mother,’ said Richenda. ‘Besides, there are more than adequate facilities here. I even arranged to have Merry with us.’

  ‘Someone who your husband has forbidden to ever come near your children again after Amy escaped onto the roof while in her care,’ said Bertram.

  ‘Bah!’ said Richenda. ‘That could have happened to anyone. Amy has a spirited sense of adventure, it is hard to curb.

  ‘Er, speaking of Amy,’ I said, peering past them, ‘where is she?’

  ‘Why, she’s…’ said Richenda, turning around. ‘Drat! She was ri
ght behind me. Did you see which way she went, Glanville?’

  ‘So, she’s in the hotel?’ said Rory striding towards the door. ‘I’ll find her.’

  Richenda made to follow. I caught her gently by the arm. ‘He’ll find her. I think you had better call your husband on the telephone and explain where the children are before he calls in the police. I don’t suppose you left a note?’

  ‘Why no,’ said Richenda. ‘Where else should the children be but with their mother.’ A faint hint of pink on her cheeks was blooming into a fiery red.

  ‘You should let him know they are safe,’ said Bertram. ‘The poor man is probably going out of his mind. I take it you sneaked out?’

  ‘A certain amount of subterfuge was involved,’ admitted Richenda.

  Glanville looked increasingly uncomfortable. I also knew Richenda would quite rightly mind being berated before her own servants. Bertram’s expression grew sterner by the moment. Any minute the whole situation would erupt into a full-blown family argument and from bitter experience I knew that would end extremely badly. ‘Glanville,’ I said. ‘Would you mind taking the twins through to their nursery. Merry will show you the way. And perhaps then you could make a start on the unpacking? The hotel offered us their staff, but I felt certain you would want to see to your mistress’ things yourself.’

  Glanville‘s head snapped up. ‘Indeed I would, ma’am,’ she said.

  ‘And Merry, the twins will need attending to after such a long journey. Please see if they are hungry and then put them down to sleep.’

  Merry curtsied again. My eyes prickled, but I kept my composure.

  The servants and the children exited the room. ‘Now,’ I said turning to Bertram and Richenda, ‘the two of you can bicker as much as you like, but Hans needs to be informed of where his children are immediately.’

  ‘I don’t know how to use the machine,’ said Richenda as sulkily as any child pulled up for its bad behaviour.

  ‘Then I shall find my bedchamber and telephone him myself,’ I said. Neither of them protested. ‘You can come and find me when you have finished being difficult.’ I began to sweep out of the room but stopped. ‘Unless, of course, Rory returns without Amy, in which case you must fetch me at once.’

  My bedchamber was luxurious, to say the least, and would hardly have looked out of place at Versailles. But in this particular moment I paid it scant attention. I picked up the telephone receiver, asked for a trunk call and then to be connected to the Muller estate. Stone answered the call and as soon as he heard my voice offered to fetch his master immediately. Hans came to the phone within moments. He was clearly out of breath.

  ‘They’re here,’ I said. ‘She brought them to London with her. I am so sorry, Hans. She came by train with Glanville. I had no idea she would do this.’

  There was a long pause. Then Hans said in a cold voice, ‘Do you suppose, Euphemia, that if I order my wife to return at once with the children she will do so?’

  As Richenda had clearly not listened to Hans in the first place there was little I could say. The silence stretched between us. Eventually Hans said, ‘I see.’ Then he rang off. I had no sooner emerged from my bedchamber than Richenda shot out of another door rather like a cork out of bottle. ‘Well?’ she said. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘He must have said something! Did he ask to speak to me?’

  ‘No.’

  Richenda strode several paces towards me. Instinctively I backed away into the doorframe. She had the look of a woman who wanted to shake someone. A quick glance from side to side showed me that everyone else had beat a sensible, if not valiant, retreat. ‘I told him the children were here,’ I said. ‘And that was all. Really.’

  ‘Really?’ Richenda continued to move slowly towards me, rather like an angry, fat cat that has finally managed to corner a mouse. I placed my hand on the doorknob behind me. I was fairly certain that I could step back and slam it in her face before she made contact.

  ‘He did ask if I thought you would come home with the children if he ordered you to.’

  Richenda froze. Her voice rose more octaves than seemed natural. ‘Ordered me? Ordered me! What did you say?’

  ‘What could I say to such a ridiculous question?’ I responded, attempting to hedge my bets in a way Richenda would not spot. Either she would become the doting wife and say obviously, yes, she would go home, or she would start spouting - well, raving - about men asserting their authority over women. I thought the latter most likely. ‘I said nothing,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Richenda. ‘I knew I could count on you. If you will excuse me.’ She turned away and strode into her room. Then came the sound of a door slamming and what I assumed Richenda felt were discreet sobs.

  Bertram popped his head out of a door. ‘Is someone drowning a cat?’ he asked.

  They say time heals all wounds. Certainly, this seemed to be the case from the glee on Richenda’s face as we hailed a cab to take us to Crystal Palace. She clearly didn’t have a care in the world. I, on the other hand, was extremely tired from a disturbed night waking at every slight noise that I feared heralded Hans’ angry arrival. But he did not come.

  Amy had been found in the kitchens, chatting to the pastry cook, a ferocious individual who apparently scared all the staff, but who had been feeding Amy titbits and commenting on the level of vanilla needed in the crème pâtissière. Apparently, the staff had assumed she was the child of a fellow staff member who was waiting for her parent to come off duty. Amy, of course, did nothing to disabuse them of this idea. So, Rory had quite a lot of trouble finding her as the staff clubbed together to shield her from what they felt was either management or guests’ prying eyes. Eventually he delivered her to Bertram - Richenda still being indisposed.

  ‘But dammit,’ said Bertram to me over breakfast that morning, ‘if the imp didn’t have me fixing a broken doll within minutes of my attempting to scold her.’

  ‘Did you fix the doll?’ I asked. Bertram is not, to my knowledge, mechanically inclined and most dolls, especially the expensive ones Richenda buys Amy, are strung together in a positive lattice of inner framework.

  ‘No,’ said Bertram. ‘I only managed to pop its head off. I was terrified she was going to start blubbing like her mother, but instead she laughed like a duck stuck down a drain. An extraordinary sound.’

  ‘I take it Rory fixed it?’

  ‘Oh yes. Gets that kind of skill from his father I expect.’

  I paused, a spoon of marmalade poised over a rather thin-looking piece of toast that I was concerned might not bear the conserve’s weight. ‘His father?’

  Bertram nodded and spoke through his eggs, most unattractively. ‘You know, grocer and all that. Weights and measures.’

  ‘But…’ I began, and then dropped the subject. ‘Is Amy to accompany us to the Palace?’

  Bertram nodded. ‘Her mother says it will be educational.’

  ‘It will be downright calamitous,’ I said forebodingly.

  ‘I count us lucky Merry talked her out of bringing the babies.’

  ‘She couldn’t have thought that was a good idea,’ I said.

  ‘This is Richenda,’ said Bertram. ‘An angry Richenda.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I said and swept the toast into my mouth before it broke under the weight of its orangey load. ‘We should count ourselves lucky.’

  ‘You know, my love,’ said Bertram. ‘I think perhaps we should work on your table manners.’ It took all my will power not to post my poached egg down the front of his shirt.

  Now, as Bertram, Richenda, Rory, Amy and I waited for the cab, I too began to feel some of the excitement. The event Bertram and I had witnessed in Ghent was amazing and this smaller exhibition could not compare on that front. But I was looking forward to seeing such a giant glass structure. Originally built on Prince Albert’s instructions for his Great Exhibition, it had fallen on hard times and almost been pulled down, when the nation stepped in an
d bought it. The thought of seeing such a giant jewel of a place thrilled me. Although I expected it to be very hot inside and had accordingly worn my lightest dress.

  ‘Do you know it is three times larger than St Paul’s,’ I said to Bertram as we all piled into the cab. ‘It is 128 feet in height and the light is of such quality that trees flourish inside the structure.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Bertram. ‘I’m afraid Richenda wants me to look after Amy. Have you frisked her for catapults?’

  ‘I wonder who cleans all the glass,’ said Rory. ‘That must be a terrible task.’

  ‘It was entirely dismantled from Hyde Park and rebuilt on Penge Common,’ I said. ‘Without any of it breaking. What a feat.’

  ‘What?’ said Richenda. ‘I thought it was still in Hyde Park.’

  I shook my head. ‘I read up on it this morning. There was a most informative pamphlet in the lobby and the concierge was also most helpful. Apparently, not long after the Great Exhibition finished, the whole Palace was removed to South London. It is now on the top of Penge Peak next to Sydenham Hill. An area described as an affluent suburb of large villas.’

  Richenda regarded me with horrified fascination. ‘This is not what I was expecting at all,’ she said. Then she turned to Bertram. ‘I hope you have enough money to pay the cabbie, Bertram.’

  Bertram shot a look at Rory, who sighed deeply and nodded.

  Amy had her nose pressed against the window, staring out at the mysteries of London. The street traffic remained a mixture of horse-drawn carriages and motor vehicles. Drivers of each mode of transport seemed to feel theirs should take priority on the road. This occasioned enough near-misses that I kept my eyes facing forward. I had driven with Bertram often enough to have a certain sangfroid when it came to near collisions and I assumed that London cabbies were more apt at avoiding them than my beloved.

  ‘Why didn’t we go in Uncle Bertram’s automobile?’ asked Amy.

  ‘We wouldn’t have fitted,’ said Richenda.

  Amy pouted. ‘It is so slow being drawn by horses.’ She sniffed. ‘And why is there a servant in the cab with us, Mother? You said we should travel separately. Isn’t that why you made Glanville travel third class on the steam express?’